


Pawns

by pook



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-07
Updated: 2018-09-07
Packaged: 2019-07-07 22:27:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15917526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pook/pseuds/pook
Summary: A Janeway POV story. ‘There is no escape …’





	Pawns

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: It started out as PID [pinkies in danger] story but other than a little violence at the start it’s really not that bad.
> 
> Any coincidence to recent events north of Oz [Iran vs British sailors/marines] is well… a coincidence and if you believe that then I have some nice tropical beachfront land in Marree that you can have for a song…
> 
> Prompt Number for fic101: list 2 – 35 – need
> 
> Date: 21/4/07

The shuttle rocks from that last barrage and I hold on to the flight deck as best as I can. I know what Tom’s going to say. The vibration of the deck plates from the warp drive has stopped. Warp drive has just gone down. Smoke billows from the ruined science station and the red alert warning lights cast an eerie glow over us.

“Captain, the shields have failed. We ‘ve no weapons. And we…”

I raise my hand to stop Tom from saying anything more. All it took was a dozen well-placed shots from the Nibat fighters to disable us. We’re surrounded. We have no weapons or shields and can only move at the sedate pace of one-quarter impulse. A distress signal was sent to Voyager but it’ll take at least ten minutes for the ship to reach us. Unfortunately, it’s ten minutes we don’t have.

There is no escape.

Thankfully, no one has been injured so far.

There’s only one option, not a palatable one, but the only one. This had to have been the Nibat’s plan from the beginning, to capture us most likely for propaganda purposes.

We’ve been tracking the Nibat’s media reports ever since entering this system. Although we’ve had no direct dealings with the xenophobic and fundamentalist society, their government through their state controlled media took exception to Voyager trading with the Millan. For the entire week that I’ve had Tuvok monitor the Nibat, their diatribe against the Millan and Voyager has been building to a near hysteria.

“Mr Vorik, open a channel.”

Vorik nods to me when it’s open.

“Nibat ships, we surrender. I repeat, we surrender.”

_“Stand by. Do not move or we will destroy you!”_

In disbelief, I shake my head. They must know we can’t move. However, the Nibat won’t get all of what they want if I can help it. “Quickly. Destroy everything.” I can’t let them get their hands on any of our technology. Aiming my phaser at the tactical station, I destroy it then give the order for the computer to begin wiping everything, leaving us with only minimal life support and gravity. Checking that the self-destruct is still working, I set up a code word to start a silent countdown once we’re safely off the ship.

Tom, Mike, Ken, and Vorik are busy demolishing all the consoles and equipment they can. By the end of our deliberate vandalism spree, the only thing left working is the life support and a med kit. Although I realize it will leave us defenceless, I order Vorik to destroy all our weapons. A couple of phasers against the ten assault ships that surround us and the God knows how many troops are on them isn’t going to stop us being taken prisoner.

Admiring our handy work, I then gather my crew around me. It’s pep talk time but there’s no time for sugar coating. They know the score. “This could get rough. Stay calm.” I look at Ken in particular. His short fuse can be a problem. “Don’t do anything heroic or stupid. We’ll get out of this. Together.”

Ken shifts uncomfortably under my gaze. I’d read his intelligence file before I left Earth and so I understood his nervousness. He’d seen far too many prison cells from the wrong side of the force field, both Federation and unfortunately one Cardassian cell like I had. I hope that he’ll be thinking of Jenny Delaney and their burgeoning love and that may temper any rash moves by him.

“No matter they do to you.” I swallow hard and whisper, “Or to me.” Being the senior officer as well as a woman will mean that I’ll be singled out for special treatment.

Tom wants to say something else but he stops himself. Perhaps he’s remembering the time that his father and I were captured by the Cardassians. I don’t need Tom to remind me of that. Those horrible thoughts are just under the surface, ready to overwhelm me if I’m not careful. I force those thoughts as far away as possible as I need to be completely focused on my survival and theirs as well or a skilled interrogator will use them against me. My crew needs me to be their usual confident captain, despite whatever trepidation I’m feeling on the inside.

My captain’s mask is firmly in place as I rest my hand on Tom’s arm. “Tom, they’ll probably separate us. You’re the senior male officer …”

Grappling hooks attach to the outer hull of the shuttle and the craft shakes violently. I grab the science console to stop falling over.

“I understand, Captain.”

“Remember, we’re Starfleet.” I smile weakly at Ken, “Even you, Ken.” I then look at all of them. “Remember your training.” They’ve all attended either the Academy or the enlisted crew training schools and the Capture and Interrogation training has been the same for both. I’m trying to install some confidence into my men. Even though the course was the toughest in the Academy and especially so for the females, it in no way prepared me for the reality of what had happened to me at the hands of the Cardassians.

I watch their responses. They are quiet and pensive. We move as we far away from the access port as we can, hands in plain view and wait.

An explosion sends the access port tumbling against the other wall and I’m knocked back a step.

Eight Nibat marines storm in, blasters pointing at us and yelling and screaming to get our hands on our heads and not to move.

I comply instantly. I don’t want to give them any excuse when they’re full of adrenaline and trigger happy.

Out the corner of my eye, I see Ken step forward. Idiot! I scream to myself. “Stop, Crewmen!” I yell, stepping in front of him and place my hand on Ken’s chest, stopping him in his tracks.

“Ommff…” The breath is knocked out of me and I crash to the ground in a world of pain at Ken’s feet. I think a rifle butt has hit me in the back of my head.

“Hey …”

Tom starts to protest but I have to stop him or he’ll get the same treatment. In the clearest command tone that I can muster, I order him to stop, “No!”

Thankfully, Tom doesn’t say anything more but the guard doesn’t like it and hits me again with the butt of his rifle.

Seeing stars, I shake my head, trying to clear it. Struggling to get onto my hands and knees, I fight the rising nausea. Realizing this could be my only chance to issue the self-destruct command; I tap my combadge and say the code word as quietly as I can.

Again, the same guard hears me talking. At the last moment, I see him step towards me but there’s nothing I can do to prevent him kicking me. He’s too quick. The force of the blow lifts me off the deck like a rag doll and I come crashing down again on my side. My head hits the engineering console. Winded and disorientated, I lay still for a second before I roll over onto my back, struggling to breath but there’s no time to recover.

The Nibat soldier forces me to my knees. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see that my crew are forced onto their knees as well.

Panting, I watch the Nibat that hit me closely. At least it gives me something to focus on other than the spinning deck and the pain in my side. He orders four marines to get behind us. They tie our hands behind our backs while the others cover us. The plastic zip ties they use are quick and are pulled so tightly it gives me yet another pain to me to focus on.

The alien leader waves his hand. I can hear the marines behind us retrieve something and a gag is placed over my mouth. Not flinching, I keep staring at the leader defiantly, not wanting him to think this treatment scares me. The Nibat are gentle in comparison to the Cardassians. In the first few minutes after being captured by the Cardassians, they’d broken five of my bones as they’d beaten and kicked Owen and me into unconsciousness.

The leader moves his hand again and his soldiers retrieve something from their webbing. Everything goes dark as a sack is placed over my head. Firm hands grip my arms and I’m hauled to my feet then marched out of my shuttle on to what I think has to be the Nibat ship.

I can sense the change in gravity when I step onto their vessel and the air has an odd smell that I can’t quite place. The grip on my arm doesn’t relax as the soldier leads me through the ship. I’m grateful I can still hear the others behind me but I know that it won’t be long until we’ll be held separately which is standard practice for handling prisoners.

A door swishes open and I’m marched into a room. A hand on my shoulder forces me to sit down and then I hear the boot steps of the marines leave as the door closes behind them. On hearing the breathing of others, I relax a little as best I can. It’s hard to breathe from the gag and from the blow to my side although the pain is slowly dissipating.

Relieved that we’re still alive and relatively unharmed, I settle in my seat. If they’d wanted to kill us they would’ve just blown up the shuttle. So, there is hope we’ll be released after the Nibat have gotten whatever they want from us which is more than likely political brownie points over the Millan for their own domestic political scene.

The ship shakes as the grappling hook disengages from the shuttle and the deck beneath me shudders. The Nibat assault ship is engaging their warp drive.

There’s nothing else to do but wait and it gives me time to think. Voyager won’t get here in time. There’s nothing I can do to stop the Nibat ship and there’s nothing Voyager could do either as we’re probably already in Nibat space. Voyager will need back up from the Millan Navy to launch any rescue mission and that will take time to arrange. I wonder if that would succeed anyway considering the Nibat are such a closed and incredibly irrational society.

By now, Voyager will have reached the last known coordinates of our shuttle to find empty space.

What will they think?

What will Chakotay think?

Closing my eyes, I picture Chakotay sitting on the bridge issuing orders to Tuvok and Harry. Outwardly, he’ll be calm, professional, and confident but inside he’ll be worried sick as they reach our coordinates and we’re not there. His heart will quicken when the sensors detect the shuttle debris and the ion trails leading to Nibat space but then relax when Harry tells him that the debris field is too small to be the entire shuttle. On top of that, he’ll have to cope with B’Elanna who can be a tad protective of Tom.

I much prefer to think of how we were last night. Despite being sore, tied up, gagged, and blindfolded, I’m smiling to myself.

I’d burnt yet another dinner. When Chakotay entered our quarters, he saw me fanning the thick acrid smoke away from the replicator, made a quip about the fire protection system then he burst out laughing. He wondered how I could do warp field computations in my head but was unable to cook anything more complicated than a cup of coffee. After he wiped away his tears of laughter, he had a vegetarian lasagne on the table in a flash and for the rest of the evening, we’d set about teasing each other remorselessly, listing each other’s misadventures or just plain stupidity. I don’t think I’ve had so much fun in ages. In the end, we fell asleep holding one another with sore stomach muscles from all the laughing.

The door swishes open and I lock those happy thoughts away so deep so that whatever happens I’ll always be able to cherish them. Once again, I focus my mind and put on my captain’s armour.

The Nibat don’t say anything as I feel a strong hand on each arm drag me up and I’m led out of the room. I don’t hear any other footsteps behind me. As expected, they’re separating us. The soldiers don’t say anything as I’m led through the corridors of the ship.

The deck plating seems to be tilting downwards. A ramp? Perhaps the ship has landed on Nibat? The clang of boots on metal deck plating changes to a thud as I’m marched off the ship on to what I think is a landing deck. The blindfold is so effective I can’t tell if I’m in the open or in a hanger.

After about twenty paces, we stop. The marines don’t relax their strong grip on my arms and again we wait in silence.

Thankfully, I don’t have to wait too long. A door swishes open and instantly the marines stand to attention and tighten their hold on my arms. I grimace as their fingers dig into my biceps.

A group approaches.

“By order of the Revolutionary Council, the criminal is to be handed over to the Revolutionary Guard.”

“Yes, Sir.”

The marines march back onto the ship, leaving me in the hands of the Nibat Revolutionary Guard. From Tuvok’s report, the NRG is the elite of the Nibat armed forces as well as the secret police. Like all other repressive regimes, they maintain tight control over every facet of their society, mainly through fear and intimidation. I cringe at the word ‘criminal’ which doesn’t bode well.

Four hands seize me again, grabbing hold of my shoulders as well as my arms.

“Captain Janeway, you will be charged with illegally entering Nibat space, providing material support to our enemy, war crimes, and spying for the Millan Federation. When you are found guilty you will face a lengthy prison sentence and possibly execution.”

Obviously, the Nibat know who we are. They’ve probably been monitoring Millan newscasts since Voyager’s arrival and have spies on Millan or Rulan, another planet in their federation, to know our flight path. We haven’t been in Nibat space and as for spying and war crimes they have to be a joke. Why would I take a normal shuttle on a spying mission? This man is trying to frighten me but I smirk. I’ve been threatened with execution before. It may have been scary the first time but after a half a dozen such threats it losses its effect.

“Take the woman away.”

I tense up. The way he sneered ‘woman’ does jolt me a little. The Nibat are a strictly controlled misogynistic society. Nibat might as well be in the dark ages. Women are prevented from doing so many simple everyday things and they have very few rights.

The NRG guards push my shoulders down so I’m bent over and my arms are lifted up as I’m marched away, helpless. Choking back tears, a stabbing pain erupts in my side. I’m glad for the gag, otherwise I would’ve screamed. It’s agony being in this position but there’s little I can do. My breathing is shallow to control the white hot pain. I thought my ribs were all right but now I know that some of them must’ve been cracked when I was kicked.

Another door opens and we enter. It’s a lift because I can feel it moving downwards. The guards don’t give me any relief and they add a bit of verbal abuse calling me ‘whore’, ‘slut’ and a few others that my combadge can’t translate. I tune out. All I’m focusing on is controlling my breathing which is becoming increasingly difficult.

The lift comes to a stop and the doors open. The guards force me out. Knowing I’m having difficulty breathing the guards enjoy making me feel even worse by forcing me to bend over even more. The gag muffles my groans of pain.

After the seemingly longest minute of my life, we stop walking. Finally, there’s some relief as the guards force me back up in to a normal stance and let go of my arms. The sharp pain in my ribs slowly abates.

It doesn’t last long.

I hear the unmistakeable sound of a knife being unsheathed. The hiss of the metal leaving its scabbard sends a chill up my spine, but I don’t move other than to square my shoulders. Whatever happens, I’ll face it head on.

My arms are wrenched backwards and I flinch in pain catching my breath again. A guard twists my hand around and I can sense the cold metal of the knife slide in between my wrists, cutting me. With a flick of the blade, the plastic tie is cut and the guard lets go of my hands. The blood rushes back into my almost numb fingers and I wiggle them to get rid of the pins and needles. A slow trickle of my blood drips onto my palm.

“Strip.”

I don’t move. I daren’t move. I listen as a guard walks behind me and then I’m shoved from behind. Stumbling, I thrust up my arms for protection just in time before I hit something solid.

The barrel of a blaster is thrust into my back.

“You have three seconds to strip or we _will_ be cleaning your intestines off the wall!”

He pushes the blaster further into my back to emphasise his point, dragging my face against the wall, scrapping it on the rough surface.

I have no choice. In the end, it isn’t a hard choice. Where there’s life there’s hope as my mom used to say. So I decide to do it on my terms and with as much grace as I can. I push back from the wall, forcing the guard back a little.

“Watch it!”

Ignoring him, I take off my combadge then unzip my uniform jacket and turtleneck and carefully lay them on the floor. Toeing off my boots, I then take off my pants and socks. Grateful that I decided to wear my Starfleet issue underwear instead of my usual fare, I grab the bottom of my singlet and lift it over my head. I groan painfully as my arms come up over my head taking the blindfold with me. My eyes are squeezed tightly shut from the hot stabbing pain in my side. I drop the singlet and reach out to the wall to steady myself.

After a few steadying deep breathes, I clip my combadge onto my bra and stand up straight. Slowly, I open my eyes, waiting for them to adjust to the bright lights and for the pain to dissipate. I’m not going to strip any further, allowing them tell to me to go all the way if that’s what they want. I take a quick look at my ribs and already I can see the outline of a boot in the form a large red bruise but my wrists aren’t badly cut.

“All of it.” His words are slow and threatening.

Sighing, I unclip the front of my bra and throw it on top of the rest of my clothes then I slide the panties off as nonchalantly as possible. All I’m trying do is remain as dignified as possible. There’s very little I can do to prevent them using my body if that’s what they want but if they try anything like that, I’ll be fighting them with everything that I have.

I’m not sure how long I’m forced to wait facing the wall. Nobody moves or says anything. I’m standing straight and tall, my arm holding my sore side. Sniggering, I think they may be enjoying the view of my skinny backside.

Finally, on the wall I can see the shadow of someone approach me. He yanks at my hair with one hand and snatches the ends of the material that make up the gag with the other. He’s purposively causing me as much pain as possible as he removes the gag. It’s all a big show but I know this is only the entrée. The next few hours and days will be the main course.

The man spins me around and then ogles me up and down. When he finishes, I look him straight in the eye. Maybe he’s expecting me to cry, beg, cover myself up or show something other than defiance because he looks slightly dumbfounded He’s not used to females standing up to him.

“You won’t need this anymore.” His hand snatches mine; forcing the combadge out of it then he laughs menacingly, “Enjoy your stay.”

He marches off, yelling. Without my combadge, I can’t understand what he’s saying to the remaining guards. I don’t have to wait long though. Two guards grip my arms and lead me down a corridor to a row of cells, I’m literally thrown into the one on the end, and then they slam the door shut.

My delightful accommodation is a two by three metre cell. There’s no bed, only what looks like a thin blanket and a latrine in the corner. There are no windows and the door is solid metal. I pick up the blanket and give it a shake. The Cardassians had a habit of putting nasty biting fleas or ants there just for fun but the Nibat didn’t seem to be that cruel. The blanket is clean and I’ll need it. The room temperature in the cell is chilly and I already have goose pumps on my arms.

Closing my eyes, I clear my mind to conjure up my spirit guide. There have been a few incidents over the years where one of us has been in danger and has been able to communicate through our spirit guides to the other. It’s an indication of the depth of our connection and love. Over the years, I’ve learnt not to question it, and go with the flow, as Tom would say. I pass on my love for him to my little gecko. Chakotay will get the message and be comforted by it just as his love for me does.

Wrapping the blanket around me, I begin to walk back and forth slowly to keep warm.

* * *

I think I’ve been walking slowly for at least an hour, trying to keep track of the number of paces and working out the maths of the length of each pace and the time taken do one lap. It’s a useful distraction. It has to be sometime after 2000 hours, Voyager time. The growling in my stomach tells me it’s at least after dinnertime.

After I use the toilet, I sit down gingerly to rest. The blanket is just large enough for me to sit cross-legged and be completely covered except for my face. I’m trying to preserve as much heat as possible. The pain in my ribs is now a more manageable dull throb.

Thinking about getting drunk, I realize how thirsty I am but I know that I’m unlikely to get anything to eat or drink for another day or two. I distract myself by reciting Naomi’s favourite Flotter story that also happened to be mine when I was a kid.

* * *

It must be late and with nothing else to do, I might as well get some sleep. I lay my head against the wall and close my eyes. I hope that the others are coping with solitary confinement and saving their energy.

Harrumphing, I laugh. Tom would’ve probably talked his way to a three-course meal by now. Tom and Neelix have to be two of the most resilient characters that I’ve ever met. Mike has the patience of a saint and will be fine and Vorik will probably be mediating and finding the isolation a ‘pleasant’ vacation. Unfortunately, Ken will be like a caged lion. I can only hope that he doesn’t do anything stupid and that Tom is able to keep an eye on him.

Yawning, I rub my face. My thoughts turn to Voyager. Chakotay and Tuvok will be walking the tight rope between giving in to the Nibat’s demands and appeasing the Millan, and all the while just trying to broker our release. It’s a nightmare and I don’t envy them. Diplomacy is not all parties and fancy vol au vents. I don’t pretend to be an expert at it. Frankly, I don’t like all the behind the scenes manoeuvring. I’m much more of a straight talker. I call a spade a spade but Tuvok will blind them with his logic and Chakotay will be the very definition of calm in a sea of angst between the two parties. I have every confidence that the whole thing will be resolved eventually. All I have to do is wait it out.

Satisfied with my own little pep talk, I close my eyes. For many years, it’s been my custom for Chakotay to be the last thing I think about before I go to sleep. I picture his sweet smile, running my fingers around his tattoo and how much we love each other then I drift off to sleep.

* * *

“Fuck!!!” I almost jump up in shock. The worst music I’ve ever heard is now blaring through my cell. I don’t think I was asleep for all that long, possibly only for five minutes. They must have sensors in the cell. Oh joy! I laugh wearily. The Nibat are into sleep deprivation as well as keeping me cold to break my will. I’m a Starship captain so staying awake for long periods of time and still functioning well is nothing new to me.

But I’ll be thanking Tuvok for the meditation techniques he’s shown me when I get back. I’m able to at least tune out most of the cacophony of noise and as much as I can, I relax back against the wall.

* * *

The door to the cell flies open and I immediately jump up as three of the biggest humanoids I’d ever seen come in to my cell. They’re huge, as big as Hirogen. Again, this is all for show, and they’re amazed, as I think they’re expecting me to cower and cover myself up, fearful of what they might do to me. Instead, I stand up, leaving my blanket on the floor and square my shoulders, not bothering to place a protective arm over my breasts or groin. Although not entirely comfortable with being naked in front of these goons, there’s no way that I’ll give them the satisfaction of seeing me frightened or the ammunition for when they interrogate me.

Two of the goons grab my arms and I’m dragged to a room down the far side of the corridor. I try to see if I can see any of others but all the cell doors are locked. The guards are saying something to me but without my combadge, I can’t understand what they’re saying. Sarcastically, I think that it must be something complimentary.

The room I’m led into has a plain chair and a more comfortable chair opposite with a table in between. There’s a jug of water and two glasses and some food placed on a tray near the end of the table with the comfortable chair. I have some idea which chair is for me and that the food and water aren’t for me. The door opens and a smallish Nibat enters but he has an aura of authority that makes the larger goons straighten up and respect him. He sits down in the comfy chair and arranges his stack of papers, a computer terminal and my combadge in front of him.

They leave me standing, naked in front of him, food and drink just out of reach and he begins to question me.

I contemplate not answering his questions at all, just using the rank, name, and serial number routine, but I know I haven’t done the things he’s accused me of. We weren’t in Nibat space, we weren’t spying for the Millan and we aren’t providing them with military support. So, I answer the man’s questions truthfully. I’m not hurt in any way. There are no physical threats to my crew or me. The man just asks the same questions phrased differently over and over trying to catch me out but I don’t let that happen, and when he’s had enough, I’m returned to my cell.

* * *

And so begins a cycle of interrogation of waiting until the next time the goons come and take me to the room for questioning. It’s the same nameless guy and his three goons with the same routine. The goons take me out of my cell and ogle me, then the nameless man in charge asks the same stupid questions until he gets frustrated and then I’m returned to my cell. The only change to the routine over time is that the man in charge is getting increasingly frustrated.

The lights are left on in my cell and the noise comes on if I start to fall asleep. I’m tired and shivering now all the time. The cold is draining my reserves of energy but my mind is still sharp. Losing track of time has been the most disorientating thing of all.

It’s heartening for my resolve that I’m able to take what they’re dishing out. Perhaps they’re not used to females resisting. The Nibat aren’t to know that I’ve survived Cardassian torture. When I think about it, if I didn’t understand the process of interrogation then the whole experience would be very frightening. To help me heal, the counsellors went through everything that the Cardassians did and the reasons why. It was almost like after mission tutorials I had in Command School, where they tore apart everything that you did, finding out the reasons why you did things and suggesting how things could have been better handled. As they say, knowledge is power.

I find ways of keeping my mind active from doing equations in my head to reciting all my teacher’s names and all the elements in the periodic table.

I lose track of what number our little chats are up to but it must be well over fifteen. When I’m returned to the cell, a small bowl of surprisingly palatable food and a cup of water is left there for me. I’m so famished and thirsty, I greedily eat and drink it all almost in one go. With my stomach relatively full, I feel even more tired and I drift off to sleep despite the noise playing.

* * *

“Shit!” I scream in shock then jump up. The bastards have tipped a bucket of cold water on me. Two of the three goons are there, laughing their heads off. Despite being stark naked, I’m in no mood for this and advance on them ready to rip shreds off them but stop when they reach for their batons. One of them whips it out and slaps it in his hand ready for any excuse to hit me.

“Arghh!” I yell, aggravated at the Nibat and myself. My fists clench as my mental guard slips. I’m angry at myself for allowing the frustration of my situation nearly overwhelm me. It feels like I haven’t slept for a week and the tiredness is making my brain fog up and do stupid things. I could’ve been beaten for that display of aggression or something even worse.

The fucking goons are still laughing at me. I’m dripping wet and my nails dig into my palms. I can’t remember another time when I’ve been so angry.

Turning toward the wall, I need to regain control. I suck in deep breaths and release them slowly until my emotions are back under control. Thankfully, the mocking guards leave me alone again.

Water drips into my eye and I try and blink it away. My hair is soaked through and I’m chilled to the bone. My teeth start to chatter and I’m shivering again, more violently than ever before. It’s so cold. Wringing out as much water as I can from my hair, I then flick away as much water as I can from my body. Like me, my blanket is saturated and I squeeze as much water from it as possible. There’s no place to hang the blanket so I spread it out over the floor, hoping it’ll dry. I don’t have the energy to hold the sodden blanket for all that long. I’m left standing naked, half freezing to death.

I pace slowly around my cell, moving to try and keep warm but the cold eats at my resolve. I’m so tired that I can’t keep track of how many laps I’ve done. I try to start reciting the General Orders from the Officer’s Manual but I’m finding it hard to concentrate. The only thing I can do is to keep saying ‘left’ ‘right’ as I move one foot in front of the other. Everything aches, from my head to the soles of my feet. If I sit down, I’m not sure I’ll able to get back up and then I could be in serious trouble.

One image keeps coming back to me when I’m feeling this low. It’s Chakotay. He’s either cajoling me to continue or yelling at me like a sergeant major would, forcing to keep moving. His encouragement and my determination to see him again seem to be prevailing in this battle of wills.

* * *

I feel like an animal in an old style zoo cage who’s gone stir crazy, walking back and forth around their enclosure in the same way endlessly. I’m only concentrating on slowly keeping moving.

I don’t even notice the door open. The Nibat enter, grab me then frog march me out of my cell. I’m shivering still. I put back on my captain’s mask back on and prepare to tell these idiots the truth for the umpteenth time.

I hardly notice that I’m marched past the interrogation room and further down the corridor. What’s happening now? I have no idea. My mind is a blank.

We turn into a room and for the first time I meet a female Nibat. Without my combadge, I can’t understand what the guards are saying to the woman but after a short exchange they guards leave and we’re left alone.

The female yanks my arm and leads me towards a door at the back of the room. With some trepidation, I open the door only to let go of the breath I’m holding. It’s a bathroom. The woman gestures for me to have a shower. I open the glass door and step in. My hands are so numb from the cold that I find it hard to turn on the taps.

After a few seconds I’m standing under a hot shower, finally thawing out. I just stand still for a few seconds enjoying the hot water flowing over my tired and sore body. I make use of the soap provided and quickly wash myself before once again allowing the hot, almost scalding water to warm me.

I hadn’t noticed the woman leaving but she returns with a towel and all my uniform. She gestures for me to come out and get dressed.

My uniform appears to have been cleaned and even my boots are shiny. An ugly purple-green bruise covers my ribs and side and it’s still causing me a twinge or two as I put on my singlet and skivvy. On the counter are my rank pins and I place them proudly onto the skivvy. When I’m finished getting dressed, I feel warm and for the first time in a while I feel comfortable and almost normal again.

The woman passes me a brush to do my hair and I use the mirror to check my appearance. I’m a little shocked at how gaunt I look which is made worse by the dark circles under my eyes. The lack of sleep and inadequate food are so evident.

The woman grabs my arm and sits me on a stool. She opens a bag and begins to apply some make up to cover up the effects of my treatment. When she’s finished, I look at my reflection in the mirror to see the perfect camouflage job. I can’t see the lines at all now. I don’t have time to admire her skill because she grabs my arm and walks me out of the door into the waiting arms of my three friendly goons and I’m marched into another room.

It’s a media centre with bright lights, teleprompters, large computer screens, and cameras.

On the screen is a tactical map of the area that we were captured in. The Nibat have put their spin on the story showing the shuttle inside Nibat space. It’s a fabrication but from my many interrogations, the NRG won’t believe anything that I say.

A door opens and my interrogator enters. He walks straight up to me and puts my combadge onto my chest. His fingers linger on my breast for longer than necessary.

Bastard! My check twitches in anger.

“Captain, how nice to see you again.”

I don’t see any point in wasting my time by answering him. He hands me a padd that I read and I almost laugh. It’s pure silliness. I shake my head, not to say no but more to laugh at the sheer absurdity of the whole statement.

“I thought so.” The man nods to someone over my shoulder.

A door opens and all my crew are led in. They look tired but otherwise seem okay. They’re forced on their knees and NRG guards stand behind them, their blasters pointed at my men’s heads.

“On the padd, is the speech you will give in five minutes to the people of Nibat and beyond.”

I looked at him incredulously. It’s a pack of lies and propaganda. It’s full of perceived wrongs against Nibat and how they were standing up for themselves now. Nobody on Voyager will believe this crock of shit.

My crew fills me with admiration. They’re stoic in spite of having a blaster pointed at them. This is all an inane propaganda stunt. The C&I manual says you do whatever you can to survive up to a point. In the end, the decision is an easy one.

“You have thirty seconds until …”

“Don’t bother. I’ll do it.” I glance at my crew, who have relaxed knowing that I’m going to do the damned show.

I follow the man over to the front of the stage. The director allows me one run through reading from the teleprompter before doing the broadcast. For the show, I use the most unemotional tone that I can, droning through the statement. As I reach up with the electronic pointer to indicate our position on the tactical map, I have to stifle a wince. I’m not sure how successful I am, my ribs are still causing me trouble and I don’t want to alarm Chakotay any more than he will already be.

The director says cut and it’s over. Part of me is disappointed in myself for doing the broadcast but I know I had to do it and I’m relieved that it’s over.

“Captain, this way.”

The goons grip my arm and walk me to another room. It’s a studio dressed up to look like a living room, complete with couches, a vidscreen and what looks like some form of a board game on a table. There’s a plate of food and drink on it as well.

“Captain, you and your crew will now act out some little friendly scenes for the cameras.”

Amazed, I blink. He’s going to make us play house in yet another publicity stunt. I’m tempted to refuse but Tom and the others are then marched into the room.

“Two of your men and you will sit down, drink and eat, talk and look happy and relaxed.” He looks at my crew. “You will be monitored. All of you will be punished if you talk to each other about anything other then the weather, sports or your music tastes. Is that understood?”

“Yes.” His tone leaves me in no doubt that he means every word of his threat. I’m not going to challenge him over it.

“Good. Let’s get started.”

Tom, Vorik, and I are led on to the stage and sit down. For the next five minutes, we’re filmed as we chat about the relative merits of the various Risan erotic lyrical forms. I’m amazed that Vorik knows several of the more risqué ones. He’s not your average Vulcan.

When the director says he has enough, I watch as the guards take away Tom and Vorik and replace them with Mike and Ken. The food and drink are replaced. Magazines are placed on the table and the game board is moved slightly. They want to give the impression that we’re being filmed at different times.

I’m told to move to a different seat and we start again. Ken, Mike and I talk about some fun times they’ve had with Chakotay. I’ve had little contact with Ken on Voyager and find talking to him a great deal of fun despite the setting. Ken’s a character with many funny stories and along with Mike, a lot of those involve embarrassing moments for Chakotay that I didn’t know about. When we get out of this mess, I plan to quiz Chakotay more about them.

The men have been watching me closely as much as they can in the glare of the cameras, looking for any signs of mistreatment. I don’t have to put on a fake smile, the stories and the ditties are funny. I hope that my joining in the lively banter and laughing, as I normally would, has allayed any fears they have. It hasn’t been a picnic but it’s not the worst thing that has ever happened to me.

The Nibat probably don’t realize the favour they’ve done for me. Just before they came to take here, my resolve was slipping. I was so tired, freezing, sore, and starving but now that I know my shipmates are at least looking well, my spirits are raised and some of the tiredness has disappeared.

The director says he’s has enough for the broadcast and the studio lights turn off.

My interrogator comes on to the stage to gloat. “Thank you for your cooperation, Captain.”

I scoff to myself. How could I not cooperate? He gave me little choice when he threatened my men and I did it to protect them and not for the Nibat.

The top Nibat smiles like he’s won. “Take them away.”

I have one last look at Tom and the others. With a slight nod and a little smile I try and convey that I’ll be all right and give them reassurance as well before I’m led away.

Back in my cell, my guards make me strip completely out of my uniform again, leaving me naked and getting cold again. Another guard comes in and leaves a new dry blanket and a meal. I’m amazed also because there’s no sign of the puddles from the bucket of water being thrown over me. Well, I’m not one to look at a gift horse in the mouth so I wrap the dry blanket around myself and eat my meal. If the reward for my cooperation is a dry blanket, a meal, and a clean cell then I’m not worried. I only hope the men are given the same reward.

Making use of their apparent goodwill, I prop myself up against the wall and close my eyes, hoping to get a few hours sleep before they change their mind. Once again, my last thoughts are for Chakotay. He’ll understand that I was threatened and had to make the broadcast.

I imagine his large welcoming arms wrapping around me, drawing me to a long hug. His soft voice will sing my name as he strokes my back and kisses my head. Sighing contentedly imagining my head resting against his chest, I hear the strong rhythm of his heart that beats for me just as mine does for him. Even in my thoughts, Chakotay makes me feel safe, secure, and more loved than I could ever think possible and with that, I drift off to sleep.

* * *

In the end, I don’t get that much sleep because they start the cycles of interrogation again, sometimes with the same Nibat and sometimes not. They’ve even resorted to the good cop, bad cop routine where one thug threatens to really torture me, have his men have their way with me then kill me and every thing in between while the other one tries to reason with me and the ‘bad’ cop. I have to work very hard not to smile. They aren’t very good at it because, unlike the Cardassians, the Nibat seemed unwilling to go through with their threats. I had no such illusions with the Cardassians. They’d meant what they said and had no qualms about carrying out their threats which they’d done with a great deal of pleasure.

They’re trying to make me slip up to say that I was spying for Millan and all the other things that they think I’ve done. But I don’t slip and they get frustrated and return me to my cell and the whole process starts again.

It’s become a game for me now. I think of ways they’ll try and trip me up and then turn their own logic against them, with a counter argument. It’s a little bit dangerous but it’s really my only way of resisting of them. I’m naked, cold, hungry, tired, and still sore but my brain is still functioning.

* * *

When the door swings open for another round of pleasant conversation, I’m walking around my tiny cell trying to get my legs moving. The cold is starting to affect me badly. Everything is stiff, and I can’t feel my feet, but more worryingly is that I can’t remember when I felt them last.

The guards don’t leer at me that much anymore. My hair is a mess and I smell bad. I must look very unattractive. That’s okay with me. I’ve lost all track of time and have no idea how long it’s been since I had my last shower when they filmed the broadcast but it must be several days for me to smell this bad.

The guards have to drag me now. I can’t seem to make my feet move properly. To my surprise, I’m not led into the interrogation room but to the bathroom. The same female Nibat soldier is waiting and gestures for me to have a shower.

I sigh, thinking it probably means another newscast appearance. Not wasting any time, I grab onto the sink counter and hobble over to the cubicle, cherishing the hot water as it flows over me, warming my body up. I use the toiletries provided to wash my hair and clean my body. I pass the soap over the now almost faded bruise by my ribs. They’re still tender and hurt whenever I move my arms too much or breathe too deeply.

I’m more worried about my feet as I still can’t feel my toes. I sit on the floor of the cubicle, the hot water running over me, gently rubbing my toes trying to get the circulation back into them.

The guard turns off the water and throws me a towel as I stand up. My feet feel better but I have very bad pins and needles in my toes now. In the back of mind, I have a feeling it may be the beginnings of frostbite but I hope not. It’s like walking on shards of glass as I gingerly step out of the shower and dry myself. After I put on my uniform, I’m warm again.

The guards enter the bathroom, grip my arms, and then lead me away. Again, I’m surprised because we go down a long corridor and get into the lift. The change of routine has taken my mind off my painful toes. I don’t know what it all means, I’m too tired.

The lift stops and we exit. It’s a shuttle port. There are many people milling around, including reporters with vidcameras and bright lights.

I’m stopped as we approach the throng of people and I squint from the lights shining in my face, almost blinding me as they film me. Thankfully, they soon shift over towards the direction of the lift. I turn my head to see Tom, Mike, Vorik, and Ken walk toward me and I’m very pleased.

The media throng parts and the Nibat president walks towards me. He has a scraggily beard and his eyes are very close together and sunken giving him an almost comical appearance. He doesn’t look like a president; he looks more like a janitor.

He smiles at us then launches straight into a non-stop, long anti-Millan tirade, full of not so veiled threats and unbelievable accusations. All the while he’s making his speech, his face lights up with a childish grin with every derogatory and inflammatory statement like he’s a boy been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

But what is frightening is that he believes every word he saying. He’s completely and utterly mad. For the first time, I genuinely fear for our lives. One look at the guards around us and I can tell he’s whipping them all up in to a fervour. I quickly look at my crew and we all feel the same way. We tense up, unsure of what’s happening. We dare not move. Any spark could send them off.

I realize I underestimated this small man. He understands his audience, the times in which he lives and the politics, and is able to tap into the prevailing mood of his planet, be very popular with the masses and exploit them for his own ends. He’s the perfect politician, because what’s happening at the moment also happens to be insane.

He’s winding up his speech and then he points to me. The cameras look to where he’s pointing. “See, they don’t respect motherhood. This woman should be at home looking after her husband and children, not committing acts of war on innocent peace loving Nibat!”

The crowd erupts in screams of approval.

I glare back at him. I’m not getting into a verbal stoush with this madman. It would be a waste of time.

My worst fears are realized when I feel a blaster in the middle of my back and I see the president put his hand on his own weapon. This is it. I think the president is going to kill us himself. He has as much bloodlust as the guards around us.

I square my shoulders. If I’m going to die, I’m not going to beg for my life. I picture Chakotay in my mind and my heart fills with equal parts of joy and sadness. I hope he’s not watching this live. He’ll have been going though hell all the time I’ve been here and to see me now might be too much. I don’t think I could bear watching if this was happening to him.

The blaster is pushed further into my back and I hear the voice of my interrogator whisper in my ear, “Smile. Be nice. Thank him for our hospitality. If you want to get off this flight deck alive and go home.”

A quick look at Ken and the others and I see they’ve received the same message. If we play along one more time, we may be all right. I nod to agree and so do the men.

President Hammoud stops in front of me and waves his arms to quieten the mob. “Quiet!” He smiles at me, waiting for the crowd to stop. “Because the Great Seer’s birthday in to two days time, I am pardoning these Godless invaders.”

Somehow I don’t find his words reassuring. Only a minute ago he was calling for our blood. I know what I’m expected to say but my stomach still churns saying these lies. “On behalf of my men and I, we are grateful for your planet’s forgiveness.” I won’t tell them that my toes are still tingling painfully or that I haven’t had a proper meal or slept in days. “You were kind to us and we were very well looked after. Thank you very much.”

“I hope you’ve enjoyed your enforced holiday.” Hammoud smiles at his own joke, basking in his triumph. “As a gift to the Millan, I announce their freedom and their return to the people of Millan and their allies,” Hammoud says, then turns around to face the waiting cameras, still gloating.

As soon as the cameras are off us, the guards grab our arms. We’re led up the ramp onto a shuttle, and I’m taken into a room that only has a chair in it. The guard leaves me alone and I make for the chair just, more hobbling then walking. My adrenaline has hidden how painful my feet are because I don’t know how I walked from the flight deck to the shuttle.

Sitting in the chair gives me some relief and when I feel the thrust of the engines during take off, I’m happy to be off that God forsaken planet. When I get back, I’m going to break off trade negotiations with the Millan if Chakotay hasn’t already done so and just leave this whole system behind us. They can have their stupid games of one-upmanship and sabre rattling.

All I want to do is go home, to Voyager and to Chakotay.

The throb of the deck plates changes as the shuttle goes to warp and I close my eyes to rest. In the back of my mind, I wonder if the Nibat could be as cruel as the Cardassians had been. Justin had told me that when he’d been captured, he was told that some of the prisoners had believed the Cardassians when they’d told them they were being exchanged for Cardassians POWs but in reality they were never seen again. Justin had heard that they’d been spaced.

I’m only relieved to be sitting down and to be off the Nibat home world. I’ll celebrate, if that’s the right word, when all four of my crew and I are safely back on Voyager and not a minute before.

~~

The throb of deck plating changes again as the shuttle dropped out of warp and then stops all together. The shuttle is at a dead stop. The door opens and the guards grab me by the arms and half drag-half carry me into what looks like a mess hall. All the while, I’m biting my lip from the pain in my feet.

In the mess hall, there are dining tables and chairs, condiments on the tables but no one is eating. The only people in the room are Tom, Vorik, Mike, and Ayala and their guards. Their looks of relief turn to anger as I limp over to them but they’re disciplined enough to keep quiet. I smile weakly, trying to show them that I’m okay.

There’s a flash of a ship dropping out of warp through the viewport. Tom’s smiling. He knows that ship’s beautiful lines from any distance. It’s the Delta Flyer in all her glory closing in on the shuttle. She slows to thrusters and then matches the shuttle’s drift. There’s no warning, just the familiar soft buzzing sounds of the transporter beam as we’re dematerialized.

We rematerialize on the crew deck of the Flyer and immediately I feel the little ship turn and dart away at warp. Hands grab me just as I’m about to collapse but this time they’re gentle and help me sit down.

_“Tuvok to Janeway.”_

“Go ahead, Tuvok.” I squint in pain. My feet feel like they’re on fire.

_“ETA to Voyager is ten minutes. Do any of you require immediate medical assistance?”_

I look at my crew but they seem okay. I know I need to see the Doctor but I can wait. “We’re fine…”

“Excuse me, Captain. You’re not.”

_“Lieutenant Paris?”_

“It’s the captain, Sir.”

“Tuvok, it’s nothing life threatening. Just get us back to Voyager, old friend.”

_“Aye, Captain.”_

I squeeze Tom’s arm reassuring him. He wants to help but I know I can wait ten minutes more. I don’t know if they’ve been through the same routine that I’ve been through. “Rest. All of you.”

Tom is the last to sit down. The medic in him wants to help but I can see the fatigue in his eyes and in all the others.

I tap my combadge. “Computer, time?”

_“Ship’s time is 1514 hours.”_

“Mr. Tuvok will debrief you tomorrow at 1100, then three days leave…” I’m stopped from saying anything more because my ship comes into view. “Thank the Spirits!” I say softly. There were times when I’ thought I’d never see my home again.

_“Captain, stand by for transport directly to Sickbay.”_

I struggle to stand up and Tom and Mike hang onto an elbow each, helping me to stay upright.

A moment later, we rematerialize in the safety of my ship.

The look of worry on the Doctor’s face is obvious.

“Gentlemen, help the captain on to the biobed. Mr Paris, are you injured?”

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. I’ll be fine.”

“Check the others while I attend to the captain.”

The emotions of the last …. I stop and laugh to myself when I realize I have no idea how long we were held. “Doctor, how long were we held for?”

“Fifteen days, Captain.”

“Fifteen?” Fifteen days. I can’t believe it. “Fifteen.”

“Yes, Captain.”

I had no idea that so much time had passed. Pinching my nose, I close my eyes. The effort of holding myself together, resisting, never giving in and just surviving has drained me completely. I’m beyond any exhaustion that I’ve ever felt before. My fingers rub my eyes and I stifle a yawn but it’s useless to fight the bone numbing fatigue I feel. The Doctor hovers over me but I switch off and let my mind wander.

* * *

Slowly, I become aware of voices around me. I must’ve nodded off.

“…be fine. She wasn’t tortured physically.”

“Was she … hmm … was she …?”

“No, Commander, she wasn’t raped. But she has three cracked ribs that weren’t treated at all, moderate malnutrition, sleep deprivation and a case of mild frostbite on her toes.”

Oh, God. What a living nightmare! Chakotay must have been distraught. He couldn’t even say the word. He knows very well what can happen in prisons.

My hand reaches towards the sound of Chakotay’s voice as I blink open my eyes. The light is too bright and it takes a few seconds before my vision clears. “Chakotay …” Even I can hear how croaky and weak my voice is and how desperately I need a drink of water.

He smiles. His large hand wraps around mine. “Kathryn…”

All the tension of the last fortnight is written on the lines of his face and in his timbre of his voice.

“Water…”

“Doctor?”

“I’ll get it.”

My thumb rubs against his as he squeezes my hand. His dark orbs look right through me. He’s searching me, ensuring I’m indeed all right and at the same time he’s giving me his love.

“Captain, can you sit up?” The Doctor has returned.

I nod, and they both help me sit up. For the first time in a long while I don’t feel any pain. My ribs aren’t aching and it doesn’t feel like I’ve been walking over broken glass. I gladly drink the cool liquid.

“The ship?” Business first.

“Captain, we’re orbiting Millan. Trade negotiations stopped when you were captured.”

“Pull every one out. I want to leave as soon as we can.”

Chakotay gives me a questioning look. We can live without their spare parts. Does he think I’m running away? “No. I’m not running away. I’ve just had enough of both of them.”

“Aye, Captain.”

“Tom and the others?” This question is directed at the Doctor

“They’re fine. They were well treated. They had nothing that required my attention and have been released to rest.”

I’m relieved beyond words. “And me?” I’m worried about my toes. There’s no pain, just an odd sensation.

“Cracked ribs, mild frostbite, dehydration, and a case of moderate malnutrition. I’ve healed the first two. A hypospray, keep drinking water and several good meals will fix the other two.”

“My toes?” I remember reading somewhere that people can still feel their amputated limbs.

“They’re all there. It will take a few hours for the numbness to fade.”

Relief again. “Can I go?”

“Yes, and you’re off duty for the next three days after your debrief.”

“Fine, Doctor.” I know I need the rest when I don’t fight him.

I order a site-to-site transport and a moment later Chakotay and I are standing in our living room.

Straight away, we close the distance between us and embrace. Strong, comforting arms surround me. My head snuggles into his broad chest. His heart beat is strong and soothing. No words are spoken.

Soon the stress of it all overwhelms me. A single tear falls from my face then another and another until I’m sobbing uncontrollably, letting it all out. I cling to Chakotay. My hands clutch at his uniform jacket as I bury my face into his chest.

This is what kept me going.

Him. This. Everything we are.

Chakotay is my anchor. My rock. My life.

And he nearly lost me. He holds me even tighter as I cry into his chest and a reassuring hand rubs my back.

I don’t know how long we stand there holding onto each other, not saying a word.

Eventually, I stop crying.

Chakotay’s soft fingers reach up and brush away my tears then he cups my face.

I barely hear the words of his sacred prayer of thanks.

“Spirits! Kathryn, I was so scared I’d lost you.”

His voice chokes with emotion and the look of love on his face as his thumbs strokes my cheeks brings fresh tears to my eyes.

“I know.”

We kiss tenderly, softly, languidly, savouring the moment and holding on to each other, thinking of what we might’ve lost.

I feel him pull away, his look of regret plain to see.

“I’ve got to go back up to the bridge.”

I can tell he’d rather stay here but duty calls. “I understand.”

“You’re exhausted. Go to sleep. I’ll be back soon.”

While I go into our bedroom to undress and change into my nightclothes, Chakotay gets me a glass of water.

I wait for him to return. After he sets the glass by my side of the bed, I take his hands in mine. “Thank you.”

He raises an eyebrow.

“You saved me.”

“Me?”

“Thinking of you helped me through the worst of it.”

“I’m sorry I took so …”

I put a finger to his soft lips to stop him. “Don’t. Please.” Guilt is something I know a lot about and I don’t want him feeling that sometimes destructive emotion when nothing was his fault.

“I love you, my Angry Warrior. You and our love gave me the strength to hang on.”

“I love you.” Chakotay kisses my fingertips softly. “I’ll be back.”

“I know.” I climb into a bed.

He stops at the door and turns for a final look.

The corners of my mouth quiver into the beginnings of a grin. “When you get back, you can tell me all about the Maslin’s beach nudist sanctuary and the wet celery.”

His shocked look of embarrassment is quickly replaced by a dimpled smile then an evil look. I laugh when I hear him muttering about killing Ken as he leaves.

Punching the pillow, I hunker down and get comfortable. It feels a little strange not to be cold but I close my eyes and as usual, my last thoughts are of Chakotay before I drift off to sleep.

~~~*~~~


End file.
